don't need another perfect lie
by Christina's Inferno
Summary: "It's not like Sam is blind, or deaf, or that he suddenly has forgotten things that happened when they were younger. Hell, he could probably sit down and write like, a term paper with footnotes and ten sources and just hand it to Dean." Sam knows more about Dean then Dean thinks. Sequel to "gonna give all my secrets away."


There are some days where Sam wants to be obnoxious and remind Dean that while he has, what was a it, "a GED and a give-em-hell attitude" or something like that, that Sam had nearly four years at Stanford and a 174 on the LSATs. So if there's anyone in this relationship who isn't stupid, it's actually Sam.

It's not like Sam is blind, or deaf, or that he suddenly has forgotten things that happened when they were younger. Hell, he could probably sit down and write like, a term paper with footnotes and ten sources and just hand it to Dean. Actually, he thinks, he _should _do that, just to see the look on his brother's face when he realize that Sam's been on to him all this time.

He'd start it with...when they moved to that town in Oregon when Sam was...ten maybe? It was summertime, and John had thankfully rented an apartment with air conditioning that bordered on this side of freezing. Mostly, Sam stayed inside and curled up on the threadbare sofa, reading. Dean spent a lot of time in his room, ignoring his brother, except when they fought over what to eat for dinner, or what to watch on TV.

Twenty years of time mean that some of the details have faded from Sam's memory, but he remembers enough to know the significance of the moment. He'd been sitting on the couch, reading, trying to ignore whatever stupid show Dean had on, when the phone rang. For whatever reason, John had actually been around, probably preparing for the hunt, and so he'd been the one to answer. Instantly, Sam knew it wasn't good news- his father's lip had curled slightly, and his face had hardened. Words like 'salesman' and 'widowed' and 'perfectly responsible' floated in from the kitchen, and Sam realized it was guy from next door, Harley, the one who hated how John left two kids unattended all the time.

"Maybe if you had kids, you would understand!" John had snapped, and practically threw the phone back into the cradle.

Later, after he'd had a beer and eaten whatever leftovers there were around, he'd come into the living room where Sam was lost in his book and Dean was channel-surfing. "I don't want either of you talking to that Harley guy anymore."

"Why not?" Sam had had to ask. Harley was a little weird, sure, and didn't seem like he liked them, but it wasn't like he'd ever tried to hurt anyone.

"Because he's a busybody and a queer, that's why," John had snapped again, and beside Sam, Dean had flinched, not enough for John to notice, but just enough for Sam wonder what his brother was worried about. He wasn't stupid enough to pursue the subject, even though he wasn't entirely sure what a queer was, or what was wrong with being one, but sometimes he'd think about Dean's reaction and try to figure out what had happened.

As his next piece of evidence, Sam would have used the time Dean was barely twenty-one and they were in Florida. John had just left for what would turn out to be a two weeklong trek through the Everglades or something. At this point, Sam was almost seventeen, and spent most of his time doing anything but hunting. He got a job, saving money up for the future he knew his father didn't want him to have, and spent the rest of his time studying. It was rare that he was actually in their hotel room, and even more unusual that he was there alone.

He'd spilled something on the shirt he wore working at the local fast food place, and so he'd gone looking through his bag for something clean to wear. Of course, nothing was clean, and so he'd decided to borrow a shirt from Dean's bag. Their shirts at least were interchangeable enough, and Dean would never know. Digging around through jeans and socks and boxers, he found a piece of paper with his brother's writing on it.

Sam actively tried to never invade Dean's privacy whenever possible, but this was different. He'd seen what was written on the paper before he could help himself. _Purgatory_, it read, with an address underneath. At first, it didn't make much sense- Purgatory wasn't a place you could plot on a map, but then he remembered. A few kids at school had made some stupid comments about it, about it being a _gay club_.

At that point, Sam had had the sense to take the paper and put it in his pocket. He'd eventually taken it to work and burned it with a lighter borrowed from a guy who smoked. Sometimes, he thought about it, that Dean had the address of a gay bar in his bag, and he'd try to convince himself that it was nothing, that he'd only burned it to make sure John didn't find it. Sure, when he put it in context with some of the other things...but it was Dean's business, not his.

There were some other things- semi-flirtatious comments to waiters, forced laughter when Sam had mentioned him looking butch, motel bills with charges for porn that was obviously gay- but if Sam had to pick the most damning evidence, he'd use time he'd overheard John and Dean when he was twelve.

They were in what, Biloxi? Beloit? Somewhere that started with a B, he was sure of that. Dean had gone with John on the hunt in the previous town, and from what Sam had been able to tell, things hadn't gone well. Dean had been silent and sullen, and John had basically ignored his older son, barking orders at him and not even making an attempt to acknowledge Dean unless he had to.

At this point, Sam and Dean were sharing a room, and one night, Sam had made his way back from the bathroom post-shower only to hear John's deep voice from his bedroom.

"I didn't raise you to be a queer." Their father's voice cut like a knife, and Sam froze. "And if I ever see that from you again, you bet leave and not come back." At this point, Sam had hurried back to the bathroom to hide, waiting until John's heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway to the kitchen.

When Sam had walked into the bedroom, Dean was already lying in bed, facing the opposite wall.

"Dean?"

There had been no response, and Sam didn't press it. Later, he had lain awake, thinking about it- queer was _weird_, right? But Dean wasn't weird. And even if he was, what was wrong with that? He knew that queer sometimes had something to do with guys who wanted to make out with other guys, but he'd only ever seen Dean kiss girls. Maybe John had meant something else.

The other thing Sam remembered from that night was the sound of uneven breathing, like his brother had been crying and trying to hide it.

Dean is avoiding him. That's the only way to describe it. They're at Bobby's, have been for a few days, and Dean has spent most of the time shut up in a room upstairs. When Sam's asked Bobby about it, the older man has just given him a Look, like _Your guess is as good as mine_. Cas hasn't been around lately either, so Sam wonders if Dean's trying to avoid him too.

"Hey Sammy." Dean's doing his typical search for breakfast in Bobby's refrigerator, even though it's really lunchtime. His voice is forced cheerful, and it makes Sam suspicious.

"Don't 'Hey Sammy' me. What's going on, Dean?" Really, he doesn't mean to bitch at his brother, but...yeah, actually, he does, because nothing good ever comes when they keep secrets from each other, and Sam has enough experience with this, both ways.

"What is this, an intervention? I'm fine, Sammy, serious."

"Then what's up with this huge secret you're keeping from me and Bobby? We're not stupid, okay?" Like he said, if there's anyone in this relationship who's not stupid, it's him, not Dean.

"No secret, man. I've just been busy, you know." Right.

"Busy with what?" Sam can feel his eyebrows rise, even though it's not intentional. Dean, busy? Yeah. "We haven't had a job in a week, and you don't do research unless you have to."

"I've been...I've been working on the Impala." He fake-smiles at Sam, like somehow that's gonna help him be convincing.

"There's nothing wrong with your car, Dean."

"I'm upgrading it." To be what, the Batmobile? Every time Sam tries to change anything about the car, Dean flips, so it's not like Sam's gonna accept this argument.

"To do what? Look, I get that you hate talking about things, but if you're in danger-"

"Jesus, Sam, I'm fine, okay? I'm allowed to do things, okay? Nobody's in danger, so just...relax."

"You do this every time you have to talk about feelings or emotions or...or normal human things." Sam gets to his feet so he can stare Dean down. "You pretend that nothing's wrong and you won't talk to me and you just dig yourself into a bigger hole."

"Sam, I said. I'm. Fine. "Just back off, okay?" He shoves Sam away, and turns away, slamming the door behind him as he disappears. Sam sits down, sighing. It's not like they need to have a daily discussion of their feelings or whatever, but sometimes, he'd like to know what Dean's thinking about. Sometimes, he'd like to know what's going on in Dean's head, but usually, he's got no fucking clue.

Sam tries to eat his dinner as fast as possible that night. He doesn't know if Bobby knows about their...confrontation, and so he only looks at Dean when Bobby's not looking, glaring at his brother over the potatoes. When the tension gets to be too much, he finally excuses himself, going upstairs to finish reading the book he'd started the night before.

He's just started Chapter Seven when someone comes in and sits down on the bed next to him.

"So," Dean says, and Sam doesn't bother to look up from the book. If Dean wants something, he can damn well explain it himself. "Look, Sam, I'm not...I'm not good at this, okay?"

"What, feelings? Never would have guessed." He tries to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, and looks up from his book. If Dean's gonna tell him something major, he doesn't need it to start with accusations and fighting.

"I'm sorry about this morning."

"Are you gonna tell me what's up?" Fuck apologies, what Sam wants is an explanation.

"I'm not..." At first, Dean's facing him, but then he turns away and closes his eyes, and that's when Sam knows it's not good.

"You're not what? Not okay? Are you dying, Dean? Is that what you've been hiding?" Fuck fuck fuck fuck. This is not okay. Whatever stupid thing Dean's done now, it's gonna be up to Sam to fix, and yeah, he's gonna do it because he loves Dean, but it's not like he wouldn't appreciate Dean taking care of himself sometimes.

"Fuck it!" Dean turns to yell at Sam. "I'm sleeping with Cas, okay? I'm bisexual, and I'm fucking Cas!"

_Oh._

So maybe his collected evidence won't be necessary after all. It's enough to make Sam laugh. Dean just looks at him, defiant, but there's a touch of fear in his eyes, like maybe Sam will pull a John and threaten to disown him.

"That's what you were so afraid to tell me?" Sam finally gets out, consumed with the sheer absurdity of the situation.

"You aren't gonna make fun of me for being...not straight?"

"Dean. Dean. I've known that for years. Everyone's known that forever." And it's true. Sam's know, and Bobby's known, and maybe even Jo and Ellen and Ash knew, and obviously Cas knew...but it's not like it wasn't obvious to anyone who looked.

"I...you're okay with this?" There's still fear in Dean's voice.

"Dude, you're my brother. I just want you to be happy." He reaches out his arms and hugs Dean, because he wants Dean to know that he's okay with it and he's not going to yell at him like their father did. "I'm still gonna make fun of you, though. You're my older brother, no matter who you're making out with."

Sam knows he's gotten through to Dean, because instead of making some snarky comment and laughing it off, he just says "Thanks, Sammy" softly, and gets up to leave.

Dean's almost out of the room when Sam has an idea.

"Invite Cas to stay for breakfast next time, okay?" That should be fun.

The next morning, Sam is making eggs and bacon and wishing they could eat home-cooked food more often when he hears footsteps behind him. "There's coffee in the pot," he says to whoever it is, because it doesn't matter if it's Dean or Bobby, both of them are gonna want some. Then he hears a second set of footsteps, too light and careful to be Bobby or Dean.

"You requested my presence?" Cas asks, and Sam stares at him. He's dressed in a pair of jeans that are slightly too long and a plain grey shirt that's just too big. Obviously, he's wearing Dean's clothing, and Sam decides that he's not going to think about what that means. He doesn't care that Dean and Cas are together, but that's all he needs to know about it.

"Oh. Yeah. I thought now that you're..." What does he say here? _Dating my brother_ makes Sam seem overprotective. _Part of the family _makes it seem like Cas and Dean are married or something. _I don't want Dean to feel like he has to hide being with you_, is what Sam wants to say, but that sounds ridiculously cheesy. Luckily, Cas has that strange angel power that lets him read thoughts or whatever.

"Thank you, Sam," he says, and for a minute, they all stare at each other. Then Dean slips around to get coffee, and Sam turns back to the bacon, applauding himself for not doing anything stupid. He's not about to have one of Dean's only meaningful relationships destroyed because of him.

When he finishes dishing everything out onto plates, he turns back to the table to see Dean drinking his coffee like his life depends on it, and Cas watching Dean with the same intense look he always has. Only now Sam realizes that it's not intense because Cas isn't used to normal human behavior. It's intense because Cas _loves_ Dean. Sam wants to hit himself for not figuring it out sooner.

"You want any, Cas?" Sam asks, and indicates the food.

"I'm an angel," Cas says, with a slight air of _I've told you this before_. "There's no need for me to eat."

"Except for the fact that it's delicious!" Dean adds, like this settles it, and Sam is sure that for him, it does. "Haven't you had bacon before?"

"Yes, but only in burgers."

"Here." Dean hands him a strip. "Eat up."

"Dean, I'm not convinced that this is is necessary." He looks at Sam like he expects that somehow, he'll be able to help control Dean here.

"Dude, I will not have a-" Dean stops. Sam and Cas both turn to look at him, expectant. Sam's pretty sure he knows what word Dean was able to use, and he pretty sure that it's also a word that has never, ever crossed Dean's lips in any remotely public scenario.

"Yes, Dean?" Cas asks, mildly, clearly picking up on Sam's _play it cool_ thoughts. (_Don't abuse the mind-reading power_, Sam thinks as hard as he can, and hopes Cas gets that, too.)

Sam watches Dean swallow, and he can practically see his brother's thought process. Finally, Dean says in a voice that sounds a little forced, but steady, "Dude, I refuse to have a...boyfriend who doesn't eat bacon. It's not normal."

Resisting the urge to pat Dean on the head and congratulate him, Sam turns back to the stove, smiling as he pours his own cup of coffee and sits down across from Cas and Dean. He doesn't say anything about how the pair are maybe possibly definitely holding hands under the table, but he does catch Dean's eye, and smiles.

Dean smiles back.


End file.
